


Diptych

by drinkbloodlikewine



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Breathplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:52:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1566944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkbloodlikewine/pseuds/drinkbloodlikewine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Old habits die hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diptych

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twerkinghannibal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twerkinghannibal/gifts).



> inspired by my twinwife who always knows exactly what to say to get me writing

“Will, I’m going to need you to keep your voice down.”

His words are rough against Will’s ear, and Will swallows hard and nods. Firm fingers fist in his hair and crane his head backwards, forcing a deep bend in his back, folded over the desk.

“Sorry,” Will breathes, and braces his hands against the smooth mahogany. His cock aches desperately, pressed between his belly and the wood, but he knows better than to reach for it himself when Hannibal’s in one of these moods.

“There are other patients waiting, after all,” murmurs the doctor, squeezing the curve of Will’s ass with his free hand, and sliding a damp finger up over his hole. “It would be unprofessional for them to hear you in such a state.”

Will gasps at the touch and tries to tilt his head to watch Hannibal behind him, but Hannibal’s grip holds him in place. He leans low over Will, smothering him with his body and his being, his weight squeezing the breath out of Will against the desk, and Will whimpers as he’s overtaken and Hannibal slides two fingers into him at once.

“This may be uncomfortable for you,” he promises. “I expect you to behave yourself.”

“You know I can,” Will insists, teeth gritted. He rocks back, as much as he can, against the curl of fingers inside of him, and Hannibal finally leans back. A deep breath fills Will’s lungs in relief at the weight of his body being lifted and he sighs it out again as a faint moan when Hannibal spreads his cheeks, taking in the sight before him with a tangible satisfaction.

“Please,” begs Will softly, squirming at the cold air against his ass, and Hannibal obliges. Will’s heart beats fast at the sound of the belt coming undone and his fingers extend to touch the expensive leather as it’s laid next to him on the desk. Cool wet liquid against his sensitive skin makes him bite his lip to restrain a cry, and he arches his hips up wantonly, grateful when Hannibal finally tugs his hair and pulls his head to the side so that Will can watch him. His skin burns hot against the cold desk and he watches the flicker of tension in Hannibal’s jaw as he spreads him open, pressing against his entrance.

Despite himself, the lack of preparation sends a shotgun blast of pain up the base of Will’s spine and he yelps at the rough entry. Hannibal snaps his head back roughly, fingers clenched in the once-tidied curls of hair, and Will presses a hand to his own mouth to muffle the shuddering moan that flutters from inside his chest.

The pressure is familiar - they’ve played this game for so long now - but his fingers convulse against the desk, seeking purchase and not finding it as the splitting, tearing, filling sensation draws a low groan from his lips. A single growl of warning reaches his ears and Will braces himself as Hannibal draws back, nearly pulling out of him entirely, before driving back inside again.

“D-Doctor,” Will cries out helplessly, feet nearly lifting off the floor as he’s slammed against the desk. His thighs ache from the bruises that will surely form. Hannibal releases his hair to clench his fingers over Will’s mouth, fingernails sharp against his cheeks.

“You moan like a whore.”

Another whimper is caught in Hannibal’s hand and Will tries to bend, tries to move his hips enough to make the sensation less intense but nothing works, nothing stops the relentless rhythm of Hannibal thrusting into him. He tries to protest, he’s not sure he can take it this time, his cock leaking against the unyielding mahogany beneath him, and Hannibal’s hand slides from his mouth to surround the front of his neck instead.

The expensive lamp at the corner of the desk rattles violently as Hannibal covers Will with his body again, the brutal thrust drawing another keening cry out of Will. It’s cut short by a violent tensing of muscle, and Hannibal squeezes his throat closed. Will’s eyes fly open, face more flushed than it was before as he chokes beneath his grip.

“I gave you clear instructions,” Hannibal reminds him, driving deep to emphasize each word, and watching as Will’s body shakes beneath him. Will feels his pulse thrum against Hannibal’s fingers and he winces as Hannibal’s thumb presses tighter over his carotid. His fingers stretch numbly as he chokes out another strangled sound, and just as the edges of his vision start to go dark and his lungs start to burn, Hannibal releases him. He grabs Will’s hips with the same clawed grasp and shoves himself deep inside, and the sound of Will’s desperate, hoarse coughing for air  is enough to push him over. Warmth floods through Will and he shudders uncontrollably, hands trembling as Hannibal finishes inside of him and his lungs fill with air, crackling like lightning.

“You like this.” The voice carries a soft grin in it, mischievous amusement against his ear. The arm around his neck pulls firmer, tense against his throat, and Will bites back a moan as fingers find his cock, damp and swollen, every vein and artery in his body alight with fire.

“T-Tighter,” Will breathes, and he leans back against Matthew, letting himself be held, be strangled by the strong limbs that could rend him into pieces as soon as guide him into pleasure.

“Mister Graham,” he responds, a note of surprise in his voice as he pulls Will against his chest. “I had no idea.” He adjusts the chokehold he was demonstrating on Will, formerly disinterested and now so hard that Will can feel it in his stomach. He stifles a moan, biting into his lip, and reaches up to grasp Matthew’s arm, fingers trailing over the firm tendons twitching as they hold him. Matt breathes a laugh against Will’s neck and takes the cue, flexing his arm and pressing soft kisses to the side of Will’s scarlet face as he cuts off his breath.

He slides a hand down Will’s stomach, heaving hard under his touch in the struggle for breath, and shoves it down into his pants. Matt doesn’t even bother to undo the button or zipper, pressing his palm against Will’s cock - already sticky, already damp - and stroking him quickly. He’s careful, though, cautious, and relaxes his arm after a few moments, delighting as Will drinks in enough air to replenish his lungs and then pulling him close again.

Will bucks weakly against the hand in his pants, wrapping his hands around Matt’s arm as it cinches off his blood and his air and all the things that would keep him alive except for Matt himself, and he’s so close, affecting the beat of his heart even more than he usually does. Glasses skewed, a sheen of sweat on his brow, Will rasps out something like a warning, his voice raw without air to move through it, and Matthew nuzzles a warm kiss against his temple as Will spills himself all over Matt’s hand, all over the inside of his pants.

His legs shake in the aftermath, hands trembling like fluttering wings against Matthew’s skin, and when Matt relaxes his arm Will slumps forward onto the floor where they had been wrestling minutes before. He throws an arm over his eyes, body still exploding fireworks from the sudden release, and he listens to his blood roar in his ears, crashing like the waves of breath that flood over him.

“Something new for us to enjoy,” Matthew remarks, amused, as he watches Will collapse into the carpet. He pushes Will’s hair back out of his face, tugs his glasses free, and rubs a hand over his belly to relax him. Will smiles weakly and accepts the gentle touches, deciding that he won’t tell him that it’s nothing really new, after all.


End file.
